This past Sunday, while I sat quietly waiting for the sacrament to be passed to me, I let my mind linger on the song we just got through singing. We have a small ward, the smallest in our stake, and I sit alone in the pew near the front since my husband was called to be bishop this past December. Usually I have a single friend who sits with me, but she didn’t show up. I still sat in my usual spot, though—basically in the middle of the bench. When the young man stopped next to my row, he held the tray out, but not very far. He didn’t step inside the aisle to make it more convenient for me, either. I had to lean over and reach to get that piece of bread. After he’d moved on to the next pew, I’d thought about scooting over to the edge, to make it easier on him, and me, for the second part of the sacrament. Then I started thinking about what that tiny piece of bread represented.
In Matthew chapter 26:26 it says: And as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and blessed it, and brake it, and gave it to the disciples, and said, Take, eat; this is my body.
Matthew 26:28 it says: For this is my blood of the new testament, which is shed for many for the remission of sins.
Jesus Christ died for us—for me, so I can be forgiven of my sins and live again. Yeah, I know. I should be thinking about this each week when I renew my baptismal covenant. I’d promised I would, but over time we tend to forget and take the sacrament for granted. It becomes routine—unless we have something happen that stands out—like having to go that extra distance and reach across a bench seat to take that little cup of water.
I learned that everything of value is worth reaching for.